Villain MMORPG: Almighty Devil Emperor and His Seven Demonic Wives - Chapter 1594

Chapter 1594: This Kill Isn’t Yours
Villain Ch 1594. This Kill Isn’t Yours

Lust staggered back—bleeding. That shouldn’t have happened. Boss-tier armor. Scaled stats. Crowd control resistance. She should’ve dodged that. Should’ve whipped the smug off her cousin’s face in a hot second and kept the spotlight on herself.

But no.

She’d misjudged.

She let Azura get close.

And now she was bleeding, blood hissing against her pale skin, red trickling from the base of her spine.

Lust stood still for a moment, chest rising and falling.

Behind the avatar, Emma gritted her teeth.

Yes, Lust was Emma.

And she’d chosen this form for a reason.

She could’ve played any support class. Could’ve queued in on her main like usual. But no.

She picked Lust.

Because she knew Azura would show up for this event.

Because testing her cousin?

Messing with her pride?

Perfect.

She’d already tested Allen before. Pushed him in another event. Even gave her dad a little headache a while back.

But Azura? Azura needed something different.

Azura was strong. Azura was focused. And worst of all—Azura was just like Allen when it came to fights. Relentless and maddening.

So, Emma picked Lust. She wanted to watch her squirm. Make her flustered. Flirt, fight, confuse, disorient. Play the role of the temptress. Maybe make Azura lose focus and misstep. Get overwhelmed. Rage quit.

That would’ve been funny.

But now?

Azura had baited her. Faked weakness. Then cut her.

Emma’s fingers tensed.

“…Oh yeah,” Lust said, breathless, bloodied—but smiling. “I’ll play as long as you want, darling.”

Her whip coiled like a snake around her arm. She launched forward again with Seductive Rush, boosting her movement speed by 300% for two seconds.

Azura was ready, but not for the feint—Emma canceled the whip mid-cast and redirected the momentum with a pirouette, bringing her heel up in a roundhouse.

Azura blocked with her forearm, slid back, then used her momentum to lunge forward with a dagger thrust.

Their blades met again. Whip against dagger. Lust’s magic-infused strikes crackled against Azura’s glowing blades.

Every time Azura tried to get in close, Emma stepped back—baiting her, spinning her whip in arcs to keep her out of rhythm.

Lust was fast, chaotic, built for controlling rhythm.

Azura was focused, surgical. Built for breaking through it.

It was a mess of clashing styles.

But the tension… Emma couldn’t deny it.

Every time Azura dodged a whip strike with a sidestep and countered with a slash, Emma’s breath caught.

Every time she landed a successful combo—Whip Spiral , Lash Bind , Passion Bloom—and watched Azura stumble, it felt good. Almost addicting.

Even as she bled and her HP bar blinked low, she didn’t care.

She was alive in this fight.

Her body ached with pulsing red light, warning alerts flaring at the edges of her screen, but Emma—inside Lust—smiled. That twisted, slow, feral smile that had nothing to do with the boss’s script and everything to do with her.

Azura stood across from her, breathing hard, sweat mixing with ash and sparks. Her daggers pulsed with mana, her stance tight, focused.

They circled each other, blades and whip both lowered.

Azura’s eyes narrowed. “Why me?”

Emma tilted her head, her tone mocking. “Why not?”

“Is this another system-target priority thing? Or are you just obsessed?”

“Oh, sweetie,” Lust said with a purr, brushing back a strand of hair. “You think I’m targeting you because I have to?”

Azura’s grip tightened.

Lust’s smile widened. “I picked you.”

A beat passed.

Then Azura blinked—her expression shifting from irritation to something colder. “You’re enjoying this.”

Lust chuckled. “Maybe. Or maybe I just think you’re the only one here worth my time.”

Azura’s eyes flashed.

“You’ll regret that.”

“I hope so.”

Azura lunged.

Lust met her head-on.

Their blades clashed again.

Lust flipped backward, midair, lashing the whip around like a cyclone to buy space.

But Azura didn’t stop.

“Crescent Fang.”

She glowed silver-blue, blades shining like moonlight on water.

Emma’s sight. Rage Threshold triggered. Her reaction time was fast, but she knew—Azura’s next hit would end it.

Emma bit her lip.

This wasn’t just a duel anymore.

It was about winning.

She watched Azura rush in, fast and sure.

She could feel it. The crowd of players was fading. Everyone else was still fighting dragons, incubi, abominations—but here?

This was center stage.

Emma grinned bitterly. Screw it. If she was going to lose, she’d go out with a damn scene.

Azura’s dagger came forward—right toward her throat.

And then—

-CLANG!

A flash of black and gold steel.

Emma blinked.

The hit never landed.

Because someone else had intercepted it.

Someone with a blade longer than any of theirs. Someone who moved too fast for a boss monster.

And there he was.

The Devil Emperor.

Allen.

Standing between them.

Cape fluttering in the ashen wind. His blade locked against Azura’s dagger. His eyes—not glowing, not flaring—just watching. Calm. Sharp. Measuring.

Emma’s breath hitched.

He looked at Azura.

Azura’s blade trembled against Allen’s sword. Her breath heavy. Her eyes locked on his.

He looked at Azura.

Azura’s blade trembled against Allen’s sword. Her breath was ragged, chest heaving from the pace of the fight. Her eyes burned into his—not confused anymore, but furious.

The entire battlefield might as well have gone silent.

The raging dragons overhead. The clashing of swords. Even Lust—Emma—stood still, blood dripping down her arm.

Allen’s voice was calm. Too calm.

“This kill isn’t yours.”

Azura blinked. “Like I care!”

She twisted her wrist, trying to shove him off her blade and lunge forward again.

Bad move.

Allen didn’t swing.

He didn’t dodge.

He just raised a hand.

“Telekinesis Blast.”

The pressure hit her like a truck.

A wall of invisible force smashed into her chest and launched her backward, flipping midair before she slammed into a ruined pillar with a metallic crunch.

Azura coughed, her blades clattering to the side. She tried to stand, but her legs trembled.

“Shit! He’s protecting her!” she snarled.

Allen didn’t answer. His shadow flickered, swallowed him whole.

“Shadow Step.”

In an instant, he vanished from the battlefield—reappearing back atop the Throne of Dread like he’d never left.

Arms folded. Sword resting against the black stone. His gaze now cold, detached, watching everything unfold like a monarch above a war he never planned to lose.